


I Don't Need

by Daiako (Achrya)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Roughness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 07:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11664651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Noctis likes to play games. Ignis is ever at his serviceFor Ignoct Week, Day 1 Timed Quest: Is That a Dagger in your Pocket...





	I Don't Need

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in an AU where Noctis has a host of daddy issues that he likes to work through with…well, dick. And Ignis exists somewhere between stern Dom and overly indulgent boyfriend. Suggested Noctis/Others but you can decide if that’s actually a thing or not. Up to interpretation.

Noctis likes to play games and Ignis knows very well that he should nip them in the bud but, well, Noct deserves his fun from to time does he not? And if that fun involves texting Ignis to meet him at a club deep in the part of Insomnia the crown prince has no business being in, so late at night that it’s a bit concerning, and includes a picture of Noctis in the lap of a man at least as old as his father then what can Ignis do but play along?

They’ve already had the talk about Noct’s issues with Regis, in so far as a talk involved his prince staring at him flatly then dropping to his knees to suck all the arguments in Ignis out through his cock, and being more discreet and going home with strange men. Noctis adheres to the general spirit of faithfulness, as they’ve carefully set it up to suit the both of them, and is content to do so but…

But there’s still something else he needs, a creeping darkness that lurks at his edges, a sucking fatigue that drains him dry and makes him hollow until he can find something to fill himself back up, a sense of crushing inevitably that sends him spiraling sometimes, and that’s where the games come in. That’s where Ignis comes in.

Certainly he plays the role as boyfriend well, they hold hands and laugh and lay around together when Ignis can spare the time, cuddle late into the afternoon, kiss fleetingly, lingeringly, sweetly, and all the ways in between. He likes to think they have a good thing, bright and happy and fulfilling, something lasting, and that Noctis is happy with it.

But that isn’t always the Ignis Noctis wants and he is ever at his prince’s service, so he slides into another skin and never thinks about how easy it is.

He glides through the club, dark and smokey, full of bodies twisting together and sad, sultry eyed patrons who seem like little more than shadows to him. Hands brush him but he doesn’t break his stride, eyes already zeroed in on Noct. Noctis who is another man’s lap, not the same from the picture, swiveling his hips as the man’s long fingers push up under the skirt the prince has decided to prance around in tonight. His eyes are dark, gray smudged in the corners and over the lids, lips puffy in the way they get when Ignis fucks his mouth, hair falling in messy, ‘just pulled on’ waves. His shoes are gone, gone only the Astrals knew where.

He’s a mess, biting his lip coyly and fluttering long lashes as he grinds down on a man whose hair is more ‘salt’ than pepper’, pushing into hands that grip his ass, tightly. Ignis watches for a moment, wondering how he should feel as fingers dip into the back of the panties Noctis is wearing (that Ignis is almost positive he’d bought the prince, ever indulgent of his whims) and a visible shudder goes through Noct’s body.

Angry, perhaps, or at least annoyed, would be appropriate. That’s what he makes himself project as he strides over and, locking eyes with the man, yanks his boyfriend up with enough force that Noctis gasps and winces. Another jerk and the smaller, slighter body is flush with his own, easily molding against him, aided by familiarity.

Noctis laughs and it’s oddly pitched, breaking and gasping, fraying. He tilts his head back to stare up at Ignis, smile wicked and eyes flashing blue-red-blue. “Hey, Specs. Is that a dagger in your pocket or-”

“It’s a dagger.” It isn’t but it could be with all the effort it takes to breathe and he thinks that shows because the man hesitates in standing then sinks back in his booth, the picture of geniality. Hands up, easy smile, but not able to resist telling Ignis that his boy has been entertaining people all night and he should keep a tighter leash on him.

Ignis looks at Noct’s mouth, slick and swollen, back up to dark blue eyes, and spits a word he could never ever allow to come out of his mouth if this wasn’t Noctis’ game. Noctis goes pink, up to the tips of his ears, shivers when Ignis tells him that if he wants to suck cock he can arrange that.

Nothing more is said as he grips the back of Noct’s neck and drags him away. He’s careful about the amount of pressure; he’ll leave marks for tonight but they’ll fade fast and let Noct get back to being respectable.

When he shoves him through the door of the bathroom, and glares out the giggling inhabitants swaying in their cloud of smoke, and then grips soft dark hair and pulls he does it just right. Makes Noctis arch into it, strain his neck and yelp when he’s all but thrown to his knees, makes sure he feels it, but then he smooths the hair back on his way to press his fingers into the joint of Noct’s jaw so he’ll open his mouth.

It’s hard to say which of them moans louder when he fucks into Noct’s mouth roughly.  

Ignis suspects, as he often does, that arousal and amusement and love, cold and cracking around the edges like a sheet of ice under a bootheel but there and real and never faltering, were not the strictly appropriate feelings here. Noct wants him to be mad, or at least pretend to be. He wants Ignis to push him down, put his boot on his back and hiss terrible things, to punish him, strip him bare and tear him down.

Then gently put him back together, all the puzzle pieces where they go by the light of day, held together the best Ignis can do for as long as he can.  


End file.
